


Oblivious

by notenuffcaffeine



Series: The Fourth Wall [3]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Fluff and Humor, Gen, I Don't Even Know, M/M, Matchmaker Lydia, and now noone knows what to do with it, but they don't know that they know about it, derek is so done with the internet, it all started on the internet, peter is competitive, scott thinks they're all insane, so everyone's sneaking around, sterek, stiles is distracted, the pack has a fandom and they know about it, there is no fourth wall here
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-01
Updated: 2014-03-01
Packaged: 2018-01-14 05:07:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,514
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1253995
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notenuffcaffeine/pseuds/notenuffcaffeine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Stiles had been still and silent for a record full hour, Derek became suspicious. He moved to stand at the end of the couch, expecting an update.  Stiles hardly looked at him.  He finally felt the glare and waved at the computer screen.</p><p>"Dude. I would watch this show," he announced.  Derek blinked at him, confused.  Then the lightbulb clicked on and he scowled.</p><p>"Don't tell me you're still reading that crap."</p><p>Mildly offended, Stiles brushed him off.  "Shutup. It's better than dealing with the stupid pixies in the elevator.  Maybe if we just leave them there long enough they'll die. No research needed."</p><p> </p><p>... Or the one where everyone thinks Sterek should be a real thing and nobody notices what's going on right in front of them because they're too busy trying to make it happen ...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Oblivious

**Author's Note:**

> I'm having fun with this. and omg! fluff and nonsense! and still short! I am so proud of me for not traumatizing anyone.

\---

The loft didn't have much in it, redefining the very definition of the spartan style, but what was in it was now trashed. Except for the couch and coffee table, which had each been set back to all four legs so that Stiles could work on his laptop in search of a cure for pixie infestation. It was like someone had let them in on purpose and the stupid things had decided to stay out of spite.

It had taken Derek three hours to round them all up and lock them in the elevator. And then another hour to dare calling anyone for help. Because there were _pixies_ in his loft and there was no way he could tell Scott or the others that and expect to live it down. Stiles was the only one of the pack that Derek could possibly strong-arm in to staying silent. And the only one who answered his phone. So Derek stayed out of his way and tried to repair the actual damage wrought by the pixies while Stiles researched what to do with them.  
When Stiles had been still and silent for a record full hour, Derek became suspicious. He moved to stand at the end of the couch, expecting an update. Stiles hardly looked at him. He finally felt the glare and waved at the computer screen.

"Dude. _I_ would watch this show," he announced. Derek blinked at him, confused. Then the lightbulb clicked on and he scowled.

"Don't tell me you're still reading that crap."

Mildly offended, Stiles brushed him off. "Shutup. It's better than dealing with the stupid pixies in the elevator. Maybe if we just leave them there long enough they'll die. No research needed."

"Wrong," Derek said. He pointed to the cupboard doors he had just gotten back on their hinges and mounted. There were pixie-sized holes in a couple of them. "Leave them in there and they'll eat their way out, pissed off at being locked in."  
Stiles looked back at the kitchen and considered this new information thoughtfully. Then he turned his attention back to the computer screen.

"...yeah whatever. Lemme finish this fic and then I'll get back to looking."

Derek wanted to throttle him.

 

***

The door rolled open and the rustle of plastic bags made Stiles look up. He half twisted over the back of the couch without disturbing his laptop.

"Food! Great!" He and the laptop jumped up and crossed the room to the kitchen. Derek swatted Stiles’ hand when he reached for the tied up bag of Chinese food. He looked startled and offended and the werewolf just glared at him for the theatrics.

"No. Not until you tell me what you got." Derek tugged the bags to the opposite end of the kitchen island and started untying the bags while carefully watching to be sure Stiles stayed away. Stiles shrugged it off and he and his laptop followed.

"Nothing yet," he said. He leaned on the island to wait and his attention returned to the screen. Derek stared at him, slowly processing. He did a nice slow-burn rage very well.

"Oh my god. Are you still reading-" Derek reached to steal the laptop back but Stiles danced away with it. He angled it so Derek could see the screen but kept it out of reach. He tapped at the screen.

"Look! Look at that word _right_ there! Pixies! This _is_ research!"

Derek glared at Stiles but it didn't work, the teen just glared back. Derek's eyes flashed blue and he snarled with fangs, startling Stiles.

"Jeezus! Okay! Fine!" complained Stiles as he moved back to the couch, shoulders stooped protectively to block the screen.

"Do it fast or I put the Chinese in the fridge," Derek called after him.

"Demanding freaking werewolves," came the quiet protest from the couch.

 

***

 

School was school. It was boring. School only changed when a teacher died due to supernatural causes and there thankfully hadn’t been any of those recently. So, with a full lunch hour to kill, Stiles kicked back on the brick wall above the stairs and pulled out his phone. Thank god for SmartPhones and their access to webpages the school wifi wouldn’t let him have due to potentially adult content. Ha!

"What are you doing on Friday?" The question startled him and Stiles looked up to see Lydia standing next to the support post he was using as a chair. He squinted and had to remember what her question was. Then he got it, shrugged, and turned his attention back to his phone.

"Uh. Barring supernatural invasion? Raiding," he told her.

"What?" She could convey a frown in her voice and Stiles could definitely hear what sounded like disapproval pending. He tried to figure out an answer that would _really_ piss her off, just to make sure he deserved it.

"Online. Uh, computer game? Things go _boom_ and _splat_ and-"

"Please. _No_ ," said Lydia, impatiently interrupting him. Stiles smirked at this phone and held up a hand to wave her off.

"But-” Then he distracted himself and tucked back over the phone, his fingers hitting the touch-screen rather violently. “Gimme a sec and I'll argue better. I gotta finish this thing I'm writing-"

Above him, Lydia crossed her arms and arched one perfectly unhappy eyebrow. "No. You're going out."

"I am no - wait, huh?" Stiles forgot his phone and looked up at her. She rolled her eyes and swatted the back of his head.

"Not with me so stop with that face."

Stiles shrugged it off and went back to his phone. "Then I'm raiding."

"Nope. A bunch of us are going out. So are you."

That wasn’t impressive enough of an invitation and Stiles didn’t even bother to look up a her. "I see _a bunch of us_ everyday, like, _all_ day-"

"Keep arguing and I'll tell Aiden you made that face."

Stiles let out a bark of laughter. "Seriously not something I even care about."

Lydia frowned at him, this time genuinely concerned more than her usual diva persona would allow. "You're going. For your own good."

"Whatever." Stiles rolled his eyes and kept typing on his phone. Lydia patted him on the top of the head and turned on her heel to leave.

"Good answer."

 

***

 

Scott slipped into the seat next to Lydia’s in English. He glanced around to be sure Stiles wasn’t in the room yet, but he still leaned conspiratorially closer to her. Lydia rolled her eyes and allowed it.

"Is he going?" Scott asked. She sighed and shrugged but nodded.

"We're dragging him kicking and screaming away from his computer but yes, he's going."

Scott broke into one of his enthusiastic happy grins. "Awesome!"

Lydia glanced over at him suspiciously. "Did you corner Derek into it yet?"

The automatic response was a protective hunker back over his own desk and Scott looked reluctant to say anything. "No? I kind of haven't had an excuse to go up there yet."

Few people on the planet had mastered the eyeroll as an art form but Lydia Martin was apparently one of them. Her whole face was ever so subtly involved and it was enough to make Scott feel like an idiot before she had even opened her mouth.

"Please. Are you a mouse or a wolf?” she said. “Just go invite him. Make a nice gesture. You, alpha, Derek _beta_. Tell him he's _going_ and that's that."

"Maybe _you_ should do it," said Scott, annoyed at the challenge. Their teacher showed up in the room then and things quieted. Lydia leaned slightly toward him, still taunting him, and gave him a sarcastic wink.

"I think you can handle this mission on your own."

 

***

 

Derek walked into his loft surprised to find it already occupied. He was beginning to regret letting Stiles borrow his keys that _one_ time, but how was he supposed to know the kid would take advantage of an emergency situation to make a spare key? Now Derek knew better, but it would be a huge pain in the ass to change the locks and he didn’t care that much. He just kept the candy stash well-hidden.

"Dude, this creeper wants to know where I live. What do I tell him?" Stiles called out to him.

"Mars." Derek rolled his eyes at the chosen greeting and went back about his business. In his own house. Which had been invaded.

Apparently Stiles was only interested in the wifi after all.

"Pretty sure he won't buy that," said Stiles. He almost sounded worried, but there was also a note of challenge and Derek became slightly concerned. He moved over to the couch and leaned on the back of it to look over Stiles’ shoulder at the screen.

"It's the internet, how do you know it's a _him_ ,” he said. He looked from the screen to the top of Stiles’ head. “And why the hell are you here?"

"One: I just _know_ ,” said Stiles. He looked up at Derek briefly, smiled smugly before looking back to the screen. “Two: we have an adoring fan base and I wanna cosplay us."

Derek shoved away from the couch. "Oh my _god_. Get out."

 

***

 

A few hours later, Derek’s nap on the couch was interrupted by a rude shout from his uncle. Derek looked over at the table to see Peter hunched over a computer screen, his eyes narrowed and mouth twisted into an ominous frown.

"Who the _hell_ is this kid?" Peter seemed to be verbally demanding information from a laptop screen and Derek didn’t want to bother with telling him that wasn’t how they worked. He sat up and blinked at the warm sunlight pouring in from behind his annoying, nap-destroying uncle.

"What?" he asked, reluctant. Peter waved him off.

"Nothing."

Sighing, Derek stood and went over to investigate. "Yeah, I don't buy that. Especially from you."

Peter frowned at him and edged the laptop away from his easy sight. "You have so little faith, nephew mine."

Derek’s eyebrows climbed higher. "Let me count the number of times you've tried to _kill_ -"

"Okay! It's- _okay_ , there's this project I've been working on. Online. And this new _little girl_ shows up the last couple of days and is stealing all my numbers. Like, viciously, intentionally _stealing_ from me." Peter made frustrated strangling motions toward the screen.

Another internet addict. Great. Derek rolled his eyes and went to investigate the fridge instead. "Maybe you should track her down and have lunch. If you don't hit it off, you'll still get a meal out of it."

"Ha ha. Funny," said Peter, unamused. Derek shook his head, equally as unamused.

"Get over it. It's just a game."

"No it's not-"

"Really? What then?" The challenge quieted Peter suspiciously easily.

"...okay it's just a game. But still," said Peter. Derek stopped and stared. The bastard had just lied to him. What the hell trouble was Peter Hale causing on the _internet_?

 

***

 

The Pizza Pit was crowded and noisy. It was the usual weekend crowd and the place smelled like beer and pizza and a bunch of other stuff Scott refused to think about. He and his friends had taken over the big corner table and everyone was scrunched into the round booth like sardines. Derek looked particularly less than thrilled at being ordered to a pack night at a pizza place, especially one with a game room that Lydia kept trying to shoo him toward, and he ordered himself a beer. Stiles was too busy playing with his phone to order anything and would grab Scott's Coke at random since it was sitting next to him. Lydia finally got annoyed enough to smack his hand when he blindly reached for the drink again.

"Stiles. Put your phone away."

The response was to move his phone protectively out of range. "Lydia, I love you, but shut up. I'm busy."

"Excuse me?" Lydia and Aiden wore matching looks of annoyance for entirely different reasons.

Oblivious, Stiles reached over the table and handed the phone to Derek. "Is that right?"

Derek stared at the phone and almost threw it back at Stiles. "Are you serious?"

"Just yes or no!"

Derek frowned at the phone, skimmed a few frames, then started typing on the screen for a minute. Stiles beamed. While Derek was otherwise occupied, he tried to sneak off with the beer but Derek blocked him without looking. Lydia and Scott looked at each other in confusion.

"There." Derek gave the phone back. Scott tried to peek over Stiles' shoulder but his friend put the phone away when their food showed up.

"What was that?" asked Lydia.

Stiles shrugged. "Bestiary research."

Derek snorted his beer.

 

***

 

Monday at school, Lydia was absolutely inconsolable. She still glared at anyone remotely familiar with the entire Hale or Stilinski families. Scott wasn't sure how he was allowed to live since he knew them both, but he didn't point that out after Lydia snapped at Isaac so badly that he skipped lunch. Everyone else gave Lydia a lot of space after that. Stiles literally hid in the back of their classes, clueless but risking nothing. Scott had never seen Lydia Martin so close to sulking over her salad in his life.

"I have never had something blow up in my face so badly. I just can't - it doesn't make _sense_ ," she complained at him. Scott scoffed, arched an eyebrow. He had just caught Lydia Martin being an actual-airhead.

"Of course it doesn't. Look at who you're talking about."

Lydia shook her head and poked a finger at the table. "But that's why it should have _worked_! It worked on you and Allison."

Inaccurate and slightly offensive as the statement was, Scott wasn’t about to let the misconception hang over him and Allison just to shore up Lydia’s ego. He shook a finger aimed at her nose. "Don't _even_ try to take credit for that."

Lydia rolled her eyes and her lady-like whining took a new track. "The point is, they're not exactly rocket scientists. It shouldn't be this difficult. The power of suggestion gets people a long way in life and I don't know how much harder we have to _suggest_!"

Scott frowned at her, concerned for her grasp on relationships. "That's because it's not us who have to suggest it? It's them? To each other?"

Lydia’s eyes bugged and she waved toward the cafeteria doors and the invisible objects of her current frustration hidden somewhere off behind them. "You've seen them! They do! And they just don't pay attention. To each other!"

Scott gave up then. It was a lost cause. "I don't know why this bothers you so much. I don't know why you're surprised, either, really. It's not like the internet is psychic."

Predictably, Lydia didn’t accept his logic. She narrowed her eyes at the doors, her lips twisted up in a determined scowl. "No, now it's a matter of pride. You just... Matchmaking is an _art for_ m. I will _not_ have my spotless record tarnished by... By Derek Hale and Stiles Stilinski."

 

***


End file.
